Travels with our corn plasters

The beautiful Norte

2009-01-29T04:22:00.000-08:00

We're in Brazil now, and would you believe it, it has rained every day. Punishment possibly for our gloating about freezing Blighty. We're in a gorgeous seaside spot called Paraty - cobbled streets, colonial architecture, jungle inland and countless islands with soft sandy beaches to our east. Shame about the weather.

We've a few days staying in a cool pousada (Bamboo Bambu) and now that the flood waters have subsided the internet is working again and we are able to pay proper homage to the north of Argentina. The truly beautiful norte. Not that we didn't like the south - El Bolson especially (since ravaged by wild fires we've heard) and the alpine-line Lake District were pretty.

But from Mendoza on, we found Argentina stunning - mountains, salt flats, endless landscapes of mountains and valleys, towering cacti, adobe villages, llamas and palomino donkeys strolling across the roads. We were based in Salta a few days - in a delightful oasis called Bloomers, run temporarily by a Argentinean former corporate lawyer turned musician. He has a great love of James Taylor, Joni Mitchell and Brazilian Bossa Nova; and he also introduced us to some modern Argentinean bands and gave us our first bowl of mate.

And then we toured further north along the route once chugged through the Andes to Chile by the tren de los hubes (train of the clouds);

Then to the huge Salinas Grandes - mile after mile of salt plain glistening like compacted snow (below)

And then up to the almost ridiculously pretty adobe village of Purmamarca nestling beneath another cerro de los siete colores - and the unpronouncables Jujuy and the quebrada de Humauaca

Here's a few pictures while I can....lots of love and catch you later with pix I hope

A taste of Mendoza (while you are freezing)

2009-01-19T02:14:00.000-08:00

We tried to do our bit for the Argentinean economy, as you can see. Someone has to because it is truly staggering how little the Argies drink. Christmas Eve at Ana's - there were about 18 or so of us. By the time we started to clear up at about 2 in the morning I counted just 3 (yes three) empty bottles of wine and a few bottles of beer. We discovered this relative abstinence is normal everywhere. Perhaps it also explains how most Argies manage to stay slim(ish) despite a diet of vast quantities of meat, ice cream and chocolate.

(Pic below) Amid the cab sav vine leaves at Alta Vista vinyard in the foothills of the andes. Alta Vista also makes a fab Torrontes. We visited Alta Vista, Ruca Malen, Renacer and Tapiz wineries. The Malbec in all places really good - something about the altitude and the desert atmosphere, dry, very few pests, controlled water supply etc perfect for the growing of Malbec when the grape had failed miserably in France. They also grow Cabernet Sav in all the vinyards we saw. Incidentally our favourite wine (albeit the most expensive) was a Humberto Canale Malbec from Patagonia. Fin del Mundo from Patagonia also one to watch out for.

Me sitting amid the mosaics of Plaza Espana

Sarmiento - cafes in the shade where we had countless cups of coffee and a few beers

The gringo trap

Climbing the seven colours cerro (below)

(Below) walking at about 4,000 metres under the peak of Aconcagua (about 7 thou)..difficult to breathe easily at this altitude. A 40 minute walk was enough...

Mendoza and on - catch up

2009-01-14T14:19:00.000-08:00

Well, Mendoza is beautiful - a desert city under the the foothills of the Andes made verdant green by the irrigation system - gullies - or gringo traps as the locals call them - which run through all the streets of the city. Mountains, with Aconcagua the highest peak outside the Himalayas just a a couple of hours away and fantastic Malbec wineries and pretty good whites (Torrontes - apologies of the lack of accents & ny signs - my keyboard won't manage them) on our doorstep.

Can personally testify to the friendliness of Mendoza people after our washing was trapped in a laundry - which was closed Saturday afternoon when we returned from Andes trekking - and we were due to bus it to Salta on Sunday. The guy at the nearby garage, his mate, the chap in the tourist office, the woman in our hotel and a random by-passer in the street - half of Mendoza it seemed were on the case, trying to locate a mobile number for the laundry owner and full of alternative suggestions. I was full of admiration for my ability to make our predicament understood in Spanish. Only later, nursing a comfortingly large vodka soda, did I realise what I'd actually said. Translates literally as: "the lavadorio is closed, and our cloth is in".

Now in Salta - and the package of clothes our hotel sent on is likely to arrive the day after we leave. This one is set to run. Virtually all J's clothes will probably follow us around the rest of Argentina - a day late everywhere, obviously.

Millions of great pictures of Mendoza - we really loved it here. And Hel and Jim, Pete and Andy- apparently the skiing here knocks Colorado into a cocked hat. Not only that but the vinyards are beautiful, the Malbec gorgeous and cheap. the only drawback for the veggies is that this is meat ago-go - meat, meat and more meat. It's fabulous but a hell of a lot of it. And not just that, the Argies have a ferociously sweet tooth. Dulce de leche - a kind of soft caramel/toffee stuff - everybody loves it - and if I say that I prefer it to jam for breakfast toast, you get the picture for how sweet the jam is.

We've marvellous pictures from Mendoza, the sun-kissed vinyards the Andes, Ruta 40, and Salta - way up north which is, if anything a more laid back Mendoza. Will post as and when, with a subtitle. I don't know. Something like: "while you are freezing".

Ana avert your eyes: J has now adopted Independiente as her team. I guess that's how much we loved Mendoza.

We hear shops are closing in the UK, M&S, and Woolies and more. People apparently are depressed and worried. J's old Mitsubishi mate, Neil, reckons it's directly attributable to our departure. "Just how much were you girls spending?", he asked us in a recent email.

thanks for the mail, Neil.

Lots of love to all

Argentina - lomo erotic

2009-01-09T02:10:00.000-08:00

We like to travel slow, take our time, soak in the ambiance in street side cafes and bars. Even so we are moving too fast for this blog. It's been abut four weeks and in that time we've been to Buenos Aires, down south to the Lake District, Bariloche, deliciously laid back El Bolson for New Year, Los Alerces national park with its huge larch trees and lakes set against the Andes backdrop; and Trevelin - a cutesy Welsh-created Patagonian town where loads of Argentineans speak Welsh and totally out-Welshed an embarrassed Jenks. I think it was over an enormously sugary Welsh tea in cafe Nain Maggie that she threatened to kill me if I told one more person that she came from Wales.

Now we are in upwardly mobile Mendoza, the heart of Argentina's most prolific wine country - and once again the awesome Andes provides the backcloth - as it has for the entirety of our South American adventure outside Buenos Aires.

Including two overnight buses, that's eight different beds in just under four weeks. In idle moments we like to do the stats - the number of different modes of transport, towns, beds etc since we left London last July. We are up to about 69 beds now (adding in overnight trains and buses). As I say we like to travel slowly,but it's still too fast for the blog.

So it's catch up time again - hopefully with the aid of some pix - if they don't take to long to load.

Buenos Aires

The highlight here of course was hooking up with Ana. For those who don't know, Ana did her PhD (on Tony Blair) with me at the LSE, is now teaching at Glasgow University but she is from Buenos Aires and together with Orien they come back for Christmas pretty much every year. So they showed us around town, took us to a cool tango club, hosted us for the Christmas Eve bash,while Ana's dad barbecued the meat feast when we watched Liverpool draw with Arsenal one Sunday afternoon.

(Pic: Ana and the hand of God - showing us around La Boca, home to Boca Juniors footie team, once a poor area, still blue collar but now an artsie place and tourist magnet.

(Pic; The tradition of multi-coloured houses began with workers taking leftover paint from the docks and splashing the corrugated metal walls of their homes with whatever was available. This one has Argie heroes Maradona, Evita and tango singer Gardel on the balcony.

Walking thru the streets around San Telmo - gorgeously liveable part of BA and close to the centre, came across this mural. It says: for the love of Che, wear a condom. You might not see it but Che has a tatoo of Maradona on his arm - Diego famously had Che's image on his.

Pic shows the Casa Rosada and its balconies which have witnessed impassioned oratory from Evita, husband Juan Peron and countless others. It's in famous Plaza de Mayo the scene for countless demonstrations and occasional bombings in the various military coups in the 50 years up to 1983. Casa Rosada hosted a 25 years of democracy photographic exhibition with pix of its various presidents in that time.

Big thanks to Ana, her dad, her mum also Ana and Orien for looking after us so well.

Santiago

2008-12-13T12:08:00.000-08:00

Arrived in Santiago nearly four hours before we left Auckland. No wonder we've been shattered. Not helped by the macho guys who held an all-night party down the hotel hall on our first night here. I was about to confront them at about 4am when fortunately the night porter got there first. Unfortunately, the night porter decided we needed an early morning alarm call today - maybe the fiesta guys were getting their own back.

Pleasantly surprised by Santiago thus far. It's a good city to walk, and with the snow-capped Andes in the background it's far more handsome than I suspected. Our room - on the 20th floor gives great views across the city as does the pool on the roof (as you can see).

We've decided to base ourselves here for the week with day trips to Valparaiso and Vina del Mar - and maybe the wine country.

Plenty to do in Santiago - walk the parks, stroll through the modern art galleries - and quite a bit of politics too with a fair amount of grafart around the city, the Salvador Allende solidarity art collections and the national museum. The Palacio de la Moneda - the site of the bloody 1973 coup - is also housing an exhibition of Frida and Diego; so too birds with one stone. On top of that Madonna's here. Flew in the day before us - and doing a couple of nights at the National Stadium.

Strange then that we walked about half an hour last night before we could find a decent bar to drink in. City centre streets crammed with night strollers, but nobody going anywhere apparently. Eventually found a place quite close to the hotel - and discovered that a large whisky means half a pint. Probably explains why J is still sleeping at 3pm.

Big thanks

2008-12-10T16:28:00.000-08:00

We're now at Auckland airport waiting for the flight to Santiago and just enough time to write a huge thanks to all those who made our stay in NZ so special:
Paula, Stevie and the little athlete Josie (Hel - she's taking after you) and the smile muffin or chorizo del amore: marvellous to see Kay and Tom there too before we left.Big thanks to Rita and Gareth in Christchurch - you made us so welcome and not to mention fab dinners; Rebecca&Tony and children,Matthew and Meredith - great to meet you.

And big thanks to Darrin and Andrea - who made time somehow - for looking after us so well.

Six weeks flew by in NZ much too quickly - thanks and love to you all.

M&J

The beautiful South

2008-12-10T08:23:00.000-08:00

We leave NZ today - time flew here too fast. Here's just a few images of the south island. For me it was magical. Lynda told us that after her round the world trip including Latin America, Asia and China - NZ was here favourite place. I can see why.

Mount Cook - the day we drove from Queenstown to Christchurch. Lucky in the wet west to have such a clear day. Only that morning a rescue helicopter saved a Japanese mountaineer trapped for six days in atrocious weather near the top. His climbing companion died - the 69th victim of this beautiful mountain.

Images from the fjord at Milford Sound

Queenstown: the adventure capital of the adventure playground of the world. I loved it - maybe not forever, but I could live there. First pic shows an image of Queenstown from the spot where I chickened out of bungy jumping...

Queenstown: the 'Remarkable' mountain as seen from the park

Walter Peak, Queenstown - midway through the journey on the Twin Screw Steamer Earnslaw.

Sailing on the huge glacial lake at queenstown - Amanda if you read this, NZ south island is a paradise for you.

Akaro - near Christchurch - where we went swimming with dolphins. Little ones - Hector dolphins that live only in NZ. Spent about 40 mins in the water with them. We were told to sing through our snorkels to attract their attention. Fields of Anfield Road worked a treat. J tried 'My Hen laid a Haddock' (aka Welsh Nat anthem) but found that flower of Scotland worked better.

Reader, I nearly died...

2008-12-07T10:32:00.000-08:00

The Helihike, Franz Joseph Glacier, Nov 28

The way J tells it, I tried to kill her. I forced her to walk two hours over blue ice half way up the glacier. The problem, J reckons, is that her legs are too short, and the deep crevasses in the perfect blue ice a tad too wide.

You see the picture unfolding.

Most of the day was perfect. It rains about 6 metres a year here - but this day was glorious powder blue cloudless sky. True,health and safety reminded me of Asia, as the blonde YOP's pre-flight safety talk was obliterated by the whirring of the helicopter blades. True, our guide on the ice was Pearl, a 20-something Kiwi, kitted out in shorts and T-shirt, springing across the ice like a mountain goat.

It started well. We got used to the crampons. We slithered on our backs down ice slides and posed with our picks in ice caves.

Up we went, higher and higher. The great ice blocks around us became mountainous, the crevasses deeper and wider. The ice is 30-50 metres deep in places; the blue ice the most dense compacted over the years, sucking in all light except blue.

The moment came when our guide Pearl tried to squeeze us through a tiny gap in an ice wall to a descent of some 2/3 metres. The ice was too hard to carve out steps with her axe and she screwed in a rope to the ice wall. I was right behind and slithered into a tiny ice crack, just managing to haul myself down the rope.

Behind me I heard a noise, and as I turned there was J hurtling towards us. she managed in mid air to throw away her ice pick and somehow pivot so that she landed with a sickening thud on her side. For a heart-stopping moment she said nothing - telling me later she was running through the check-list of limbs for breakages. Amazingly nothing was broken. J's years of hockey goalkeeping saved her. As she felt herself falling towards Pearl and me she had the presence of mind to chuck the icepick away from us and twist in the air so that she did not hit the ice arms and face first.

Shaken and bruised, but somehow nothing worse.

Although that has not stopped her telling all & sundry that I tried to kill her...again.

A bit of chocolate, a nothing-else-for-it mentality and she was back on her feet, as unbelievably Pearl tried to hack her way still higher up the ice mountain.

In total the ice walk was just over two hours but from that point on it felt like an age before we finally made it back to the ice helipad. To all mountaineers and ice climbers, even bigger respect. As J put it - it's very real out there. It's not Disney.
Pic: still smiling at the end of the glacier walk...

PS: anonymous commented on one of our recent blogs:
'your public is impressed'
A little later anonymous posted again:
'sorry that should read 'unimpressed'...

Whoever you are, keep posting

Napier and chocolate

2008-11-28T14:40:00.000-08:00

Catch up time again. We're now in the South Island - and it is magical and more dice-with-death experience, this time on the Franz Joseph glacier. But before that back to the North and our sojourn with Paula.

P & Stevie are unbelievably busy - not just with the pocket dynamos but with work, re-doing the entire garden, garage sales, the gym and pilates, not to mention cooking for us - and Stevie was the kitchen star. His chicken curry and Paula's fab lemon cakes rate honour in dispatches.

We all on impulse bundled everyone and everything up in our cars for a few days in Napier, a city recreated in Art Deco after the 1931 earthquake and located in the Hawkes Bay wine region. Despite the ducktruck through the harbour, the kiwi in the aquarium and the kiddie heaven of SplashPlanet, my favourite was definitely lunch at the Mission vinyard, beautiful converted seminary set on a hill where we ate home-reared lamb and drank a Mission reserve Pinot Noir to die for. Not to mention the dark chocolate coated orange and cinnamon ice cream pud for Paula and me (K - avert your eyes)

The little chocolate-coated love muffin seemed to enjoy his desert too:

Have to rush now. J, waiting for our trip to a glacial lake, has dumped coats on the table and declared 'no pressure'! More follows later...

Before I go Big love and beams to Chris.

Quintessential New Zealand, eh?

2008-11-13T14:39:00.000-08:00

We took a float plane (flying boat to me) from the mighty volcanic Lake Taupo for a tour of the distant mountains (all live volanoes - the manificent ski mountain Ruapehu with its blue crater lake, Mount Tongairo and the classic volcano shape of Ngaurihoe). Beautiful morning - clear blue sky and hot sunshine. The best weather we've had yet - stopped Jenks from shivering and whispering 'Fiji'

Here's some pix:

Deep joy to be using Paula and Stevie's computer - pics upload in virtually seconds compared to the 20 mins/half hour of Asia. We off with Paula to a 'ladies who lunch do' shortly, Josie and Thomas having been safely deposited as fairies and elves at the kindie. double deep joy.

Corn plaster update: J's come out with a monstrous cold sore. My pulled stomach muscle (an injury from clambering aboard the dive boat) finally better. Paula's looking askance at my prickly legs though. Heat's out here now - must take care. Love to all.

NZ and best 5

2008-11-10T22:32:00.000-08:00

A few folk have noticed we haven't updated the blog regularly. Oops - but admit it's nice to be missed.

We're in NZ now. Trekked over to the beautiful Coromandel coast for a couple of days and hooked up with Darrin and Andrea (LSE folks will remember Darrin - old colleague and friend from LSE now at Waikato. spent a few great days with them - especially Saturday. Jenks, Andrea and I went to Rotorua and geo-thermal wonderland, while Darrin slow-roasted a leg of lamb ready for our return, lit a fire and we all watched the NZ election results. V. quiet elction here - v. little prop posters and whatnot on the streets. Sorry to see Helen go -and D&A worried that new National govt may be hard right. There's always Australia....

of course Obama THE big news of the week. Time difference as large as it is we heard the news on NZ radio as we drove down from the Coromandel. Wierd - and doubtless we would have had a big event had we been in the UK. No doubting the interest here though - Obama all over the papers. We knew it was a big deal - but quite how big has only just dawned on me

the blog update top five favourite places visited...

in no order
Ha Long Bay
Fiji - for its fantastic diving, sunshine, beaches and that it had an edge - fascinating and not so simple country - the 'Fiji paradise' tourism stuff is 'bula'-shit. But it was beautiful endlessly interesting and the diving the best we'd seen in 20 years, magnficent and diverse coral.

Jenks scared the wits out of a poor reef shark on one dive, the terrified animal took one look at her, spun round and high tailed out in a cloud of dust. Marvellous. A couple of days later, our heroine of the high seas was chased out of own gentle harbour by a hungry 12 inch trumpet fish. She swears it was a monstrous eel. Uh hum.

Here's a couple of pix of Fiji - Nananu-I-Ra - where we stayed for a week and dived with Papoo, who knows the reefs like the back of his hand.

Sydney Memo from Sydney:
Please send funds sufficient for flat and modest boat. We are not leaving.

Memo from Fiji:

Please amend previous memo.Stop. Please send sufficient funds for modest Sydney accommodation, small boat plus expenses for yearly time-out in Fiji

The Mekong - that's Laos -from the amazing journey to Luang Prabang to the finish in Vientienne - the Mekong was unmissable.

We hunted around for the fifth - Siem Reap and the amazing wats, Hanoi and its constant buzz of motor bikes and street life and the best restaurant we've found on our travels (Green angerine) Byron Bay, Hunter Valley - but we decided on Hervey Bay - not just because we had a cool relaxing week in a self-contained apartment with a sunset balacony over the sea - and therefore easy smoking opportunities - but also because of the awesome whale watching and the spectacular wildlife shows treated to us just walking along the shore - the thousands of bats hanging out in woods and the show-off pelicans.

memo to Steff: we're completely miserable.

The whole world looks like Wales - the proof

2008-10-12T15:09:00.000-07:00

The Neath Hotel, Hunter Valley, New South Wales

There again - not so much. Views of Hunter Valley: the view from our balcony at the Hermitage Vinyard; the sculpture gardens at the Constable winery - a short walk from where we stayed; and large views over the valley from the Audrey Wilkinson vinyard.

Oz catch up

2008-10-12T02:27:00.000-07:00

This is just to let everyone know that - yes, we are still alive. We are still in Oz. Sydney this am having driven in from Katoomba in the Blue Mountains this morning. Wierd and wonderful place katoomba - a bit like Hastings - tatty, obviously seen better days but now full of arty types, bohemians and such - so great cafes, sumptuous desserts, live music on the streets and in the pubs, an assortment of odd shops such as the Flying Frocks and Sanctus, the Catholic bookshop that displays organic holy water in its window, and not a chain store to be seen. There the similarity ends. Katoomba's three sisters - huge sandstone karsts - and rain forest filled Jamison valley.

Internet surprisingly hard to access and very expensive in Oz - that's my plea anyway for failure to keep the blog up. And just to tide things along here some pix and stats:

4000 km - the distance we've driven from up far north in Queensland (cape Tribulation) to Sydney.

11 - the number of locations we've stayed at least one night. We spent two days in Cape Trib on God's own beach, rain forest tumbling down onto gleaming white sand and sparkling turquoise sea. We were about to plunge in when we discovered that sharks were swimming about, and crocs regularly come up the salt creeks into the sea.Not to mention the python spotted in the bay. then Atherton tablelands and nature spotting in a night canoe ride. Down back along the coast Hervey and Byron Bay - and a sort of Australian Butlins we found in a place called Yeppoon. Hunter Valley and then the Blue Mountains.

2 - the number of crocs we've seen in the wild (Daintree river).

I ate my first croc, by the way yesterday in katoomba. jenks ate her first kangaroo. it doesn't seem right does it - especially as she was just feeding some in a roo/koala santuary a couple of days before.

Countless - the number of dead roos we've seen by the roadside.

Strange fact: Jenks can yodel. discovered this while driving through the mountains. It used to be a childhood party piece apparently - yodelling along to Frank Ifield She Taught me How to Yodel.

Random thought: what is happening to the world?

Corn plaster report: J's knees playing up walking in the mountains; the cool Blue mountain air finally clearing my skin rashes. Strange bruise on my foot is getting better - think it happened diving the barrier reef. Prickly heat - that's a slow bastard. Corn plasters - still haven't used them.

Nice to be out for an hour....Ha Long Bay

2008-09-12T01:48:00.000-07:00

The romantic story is that the limestone mountain islands in Ha Long Bay were created by dragons to deter invaders from the north. Whatever. We had a bottle of Sav Blanc and a long Vietnamese lunch of pumpkin soup, prawns in tamarind sauce and claypot fish as we cruised through the calm and misty waters. We've seen some views here in Asia - but this must be the best-ever spot for lunch. Or as they would say in Wales: 'it's nice to be out for an hour'. Jenks managed to resist the comparisons with St Davids, but was delighted that our Vietnamese guide was called Dai. 'There's lovely'.

We stayed overnight on the IndoChina Sails junk - one of an armada that sails these waters. Could easily have spent more time there, so beautiful and so peaceful after the constant din of motorbikes and horns that is Hanoi. Sailed up to a couple of the several floating fishing villages in the bay --- and saw the first floating bank of my experience. A spot of kayaking and some swimming. All too short our time there.

Congrats Ju and Di

2008-09-02T02:08:00.000-07:00

Big congrats to Ju & Di on your CP. We wished we could be with you...almost.

Here's us at Angkor Wat in those hats you bought us...looking good I like to think...

Rapid Catch up

2008-08-31T20:40:00.000-07:00

We're now in Hue, Vietnam and here for five days before flying to Hanoi and Ha Long.

So there's lots to catch up on: Ho Chi Minh City where we stayed at the Svetlana ('Grand') Hotel – yes a bit Soviet Union – then the Reunification Express overnight from HCMC to Hoi An when we roomed up in a 4-berth sleeper with a little old Vietnamese lady with the flexibility (and skin almost) of a four-year-old who clearly was not too keen on sharing with two hulking great Westerners. She moaned constantly and groaned loudly when I planted a shoed foot on the bed to hoist myself inelegantly on to the top bunk. Her compatriot – a sweet and younger woman – obviously embarrassed, compensated by buying us some vietnamese milky coffee for breakfast. Mined was iced and lovely; Jenk's was hot and swamp water.

But back I should go to Siem Reap. We'd so looked forward to this – not just for the temples but of course this is where Gill and Lynda had spent 9 months volunteering. We wanted to get an idea of how they lived. Bloody well I should say. Siem Reap is a party town. We checked out some of their favourite haunts and recommendations including Dead Fish Tower which keeps a crocodile pit downstairs; plus numerous other eat and drinkeries. Slightly surprised at first at how opulent relatively speaking SR is – full of plush and big hotels, loads of bars and restaurants. Typically though for Cambodia you only have to move a street or two back and the poverty is overwhelming. In many ways I thought Cambodia more poor even than Laos – there is obviously much more money in Cambodia but the contrast rich/poor is stunning here. And the begging and the hassling is in a different league to any other part of Asia we've been to. As for that matter is the sex tourism – at least as overt as we saw in Thailand. We were there slap bang after the election – so stacks of propaganda everywhere – especially for the Cambodian People's Party – the winners of course. I'm plotting a pol com blog in the fullness.

Temples – awesome – and pix above of Angkor Wat, Angkor thom – my favourite and one of the wonderful jungle strangled temples. But Siem Reap so so hot and the temple tours – there are so many of them – take whole days, leave you drenched and exhausted. It was here that my skin eruptions started – and that started to slow us down a bit. We managed to catch up with a couple of Gill & Lynda's mates Pok & Tom – but missed out on a lot of stuff, and didn't get to see the shelter where they worked.

From Siem Reap to Phnom Penh by speedboat. A proper boat this time – not the Laos variety. Fab journey past the floating villages – and three hours to cross the colossal Tonle Sap lake. The river journey gives some idea of the poverty too in Cambodia – tin shanties for miles along the river banks as we close in on Phnom Penh.

From there the bus to Ho Chi Minh – by far the biggest, most prosperous and consumerised city we've seen since Bangkok. Hugely busy port on the Saigon River, masses of industry, department stores and shopping malls. Fantastic food here – but that has been true generally of Vietnam. The food easily the best we've had in Asia – aside from the wonderful Kampot pepper crab and the fish amok in Kep.

Corn plaster report: ah hah. Last blog had the prickly heat update. Aided by the steam room in the hotel Svetlana it transformed into a creature-from-the-deep outbreak. Industrial strength anti-allergens seem now to be working. I'm enjoying my new vampire like status – only coming out at night. Fellow travellers calling me 'the lady of the night'. It has a certain charm. Jenks in sympathy has come down with a full on cold. We are planning a dawn raid on the imperial city and ancient tombs tomorrow and will book some serious luxury to stay in Hanoi - just in case I'm still confined to th dark. Corn plasters - amazingly still haven't used em.

Footie update: watched us draw with Villa last night – for God's sake Rafa! Get a grip man.

Phnom Penh again

2008-08-15T08:03:00.000-07:00

Back in Phnom Penh at the Billabong Guest House. It's our third time in the capital and we are back here for a couple of nights before we head to Vietnam. We've come to view it as home. We've a a good room by the pool and that's essential in PP. it's so sticky hot here. Siem Reap was blistering and we arrived by boat today and I was just working up to a cooling dip when the monsoon heavens opened again, crashed upon us with the wrath of God, got harder with thunder and lightning and since then the rain has not stopped. Jenks sparko out as I write; meanwhile I'm dispatching a Johnnie Walker Black, and searching the internet for hotels in Ho chi Minh city and cures for prickly heat.

So much to say about PP, Cambodia and Laos - the people, cultures, politics...but just at the moment it's those little things that are on my mind. Little things that you discover about yourselves. Like jenks' obsessive compulsive disorder with the washing. She opens her eyes in the morning, disappears into the bathroom for half an hour and emerges triumphantly declaring that's another six pairs of knickers off our laundry list. I meanwhile can't pass a pharmacy without wandering in stocking up on medicaments and always in the vain hope that there might be Dr Hauschka or MagicoolPlus maybe a little Clinique. I had the bright idea last night to try two different preparations on my heat prickled legs - I put calomine lotion on one and Savlon on the other. One leg showed definite improvement. Had I remembered which leg had which it would have been an excellent experiment.

jenks also has this thing going on about Wales. The whole of south east Asia brings new and hitherto unsuspected comparisons. Angkor Wat? "It's just like Neath Abby - only bigger". Wait till we hit New Zealand.

Love to you all. We'll be up late tonight catching Liverpool v Sunderland - about 11.30 here. The new season? Optimism of spirit, pessimism of the mind. Come on you Reds.

Kep. Cambodia

2008-08-10T21:24:00.000-07:00

After the total chaos of Phnom Penh we are powering down in Kep – a sleepy little village by the sea famed only for its pepper crab and for the fact that it was once the hang out of Cambodian royalty before it got smashed to pieces by the Khmer Rouge. Tried the crab last night – wonderful meat and doubtless slimming since it took so much energy to extract. When I say powering down – no internet here, no newspapers and last night the few Tv channels gave out with the ominous warning on some that 'this channel not allowed in this country'. We had no way of knowing if this was a temporary blip or if the trouble at the border had spilled into outright war between Cambodia and Thailand. Slight uneasiness not helped by the soldiers with rifles loitering outside the crab restaurant.

Feels strange to be so far from news. I had to text Chris. He replied straight away Rangers 0 Liverpool 4. Retired to bed much comforted.

Rabbit Island

Fantastic to be beside the sea. The air so clean after Phnom Penh, the street – there is only one – so quiet. save for the breaking waves. We took a ferry across to Rabbit Island on Sunday – noted for its bathing beaches. As is the norm for us in Asia every trip is an adventure. We were talked into it by charming lad who met us off the bus from PP – and offered us a bargain price. Like very many lads we've met here, he has one thumbnail very long and scrupulously clean. A guitarist and budding rock star of course. A Cambodian version of 'Beautiful girl', sung in English although it's hard to tell, is the soundtrack here. Makes a nice change from Hotel California.

The young lad took us to the ferry dock on the back on his motorbike. Fortunately, he had a mate so that was a bike each for us. No crash helmets of course but a bike each was a bonus since three and often four per bike is normal. At the so-called dock it was the usual thing: scramble over rocks, wade through thigh high water, throw yourself into the boat – like gazelles we were. Jenks' swallow dive into the boat especially impressive and clearly a new technique for the nimble Cambodians. Rabbit Island was a delight. Goats, chickens and even cows meandered thru the coconut palms and hammocks. We floated for hours in the South china briny, lunched on fresh prawns and coconut water and then wandered back to the boat across the hillside path.
Then from nowhere came the monsoon rain. We waited wondering if we would have to shelter in the thatched huts overnight. Two by two the other passangers turned up since it turned out we had all been given different departure times. We watched the rain and a lonely paddle boat struggle thru the thundering waves. then it was our time to leave. Somehow I found myself sitting alone at the front of the boat. Rabbit Island is only about half an hour from Kep but as the boat heaved and threatened to capsize it looked an awfully long way off. Make it we did – drenched by the waves and for the first time in Asia cold from the wind. No fish for dinner that night – spaghetti please.

Vang Vieng: dump to delight

2008-08-07T18:25:00.000-07:00

8 hour bus ride from Phonsovan to Vang Vieng, some of it above the clouds as we drive through the mountains. Apart from the magnificent views the journey memorable for the landslides and a huge boulder on the road – the product of three days monsoon rain. Oh and the co-pilot who hawked and gobbed continuously and displayed his roadie's arse at unscheduled comfort breaks by the roadside.

Our first sight of Vang Vieng not promising. We toured the few streets and found bar after bar full of listless young Western backpackers stretched out on mangey cushions watching Friends on continuous loop. Just about everyone we saw that night looked stoned or dealing. Found out later from a restaurant owner that VV came to notice from a piece in the Times when a travel writer reported the ready availability of opium. Bars quickly cashed in, offering 'happy menus' and 'happy shakes'. The river gangsters – as we came to see them – opened up makeshift bars along the banks of the Nam Song and rented out tyre inner tubes at extortionate prices so that kids could drift along the fast current topping up on booze and happy stuff along the way.

Spirits lift the next day. Breakfasted by the river under glorious sun over the awesome limestone karsts. Fantastic setting (see pic). Across the river the mountains, caves and immaculately tended paddy fields drew us in. We soon met some lovely people here. a young Lao, name charmingly pronounced Annoy, guided us on a 16km kayak ride down the river, told us his life story, his ambitions for university, and dazzled us with his athleticism as he somersaulted into the water off a high trapeze at a riverside bar. Also got friendly with a restaurant owner who served great food and was one of the few with no TV. amazing guy. Had lived in Bromley for 20 or so years before returning to Lao. Politically sharp, seemed to know everything that was going on in the town and supplied ad hoc medical care to the young Westerners who limped in with scrapes and bruises from the river tubing.

We ended up staying five days. Rented out scratchy old town bikes with no gears nor brakes and went touring through the rice fields to the caves. Jenks sure I was trying to kill her as of course we did this in the heat of the mid-day sun. The tubing looked so tempting at the end of that day. Had we stayed another day...well I'm sure we'd have gone tubing, and maybe slurping happy shakes and watching Friends with the best of them.

On our way out of our Guest House – the Elephant Crossing – bumped into Ivor Gaber and his wife Jane, touring S.East Asia for a few weeks. Small world.
Next stop – the capital Vientiane.

Phonsovan & Plain of Jars, Laos

2008-07-25T17:47:00.000-07:00

Travel notes

Two nights in Phonsovan & Plain of Jars. This area - about 300 sq. kmetres the site of heavy fighting 1960-1970; civil war between Pathet Lao, Royalists and Hmong mountain tribes led by Vang Pao, financed by CIA. N. Vietnamese, Russians and CIA intervened; Ho Chi Minh trail ran through here and tracks and trenches still evident. US bombed the trail but also used site as a dumping ground for bombers offloading before they landed. The result, we were told was the equivalent of 10 Hiroshimas in bomb tonnage a day for about eight years.

war evidence everywhere, bomb craters, scrapyards full of military weaponry, bags of bullets many still with gunpowder, grenades, cluster bombs and landmines. Defoliants, agent orange etc stripped the hills bare of trees. Crops growing again. People turning war artillery to practical use. Our hotel, the auberge has a stripped down bomb casing as an ashtray; wooden thatched homes use the shells to prop up fences and buildings and melt down aluminium for spoons. the Mine Action Group working daily and we saw the UXO guys out clearing round a house.

Amazingly, the numbers of people injured by still live war ammo/bombs is increasing - one estimate about 300 a year. People get money for war scrap and so are willing to search it out and dig it up.

Laos - US secret war. Involvement there only just admitted. While we were there, US military had taken over the Vansana Hotel. They had deputation dealing with Missing In Action soldiers - apparently 4-5,000 MIAs in Laos.

Plain of Jars the Plain of Jars runs through the war site. Jars fascinating up close - if not in pix. 2000-4000 years old. several theories about what they are four, although our guide claims most likely used for offerings to the gods/spirits to protect the departed.

Travel notes:

2008-07-17T21:55:00.000-07:00

People:

Lynda and Gill: old friends from London and fellow Liverpool supporters. Both experienced travellers round the world. Have spent the last nine months volunteering in Cambodia, teaching English to orphans in the poverty school and in a shelter for trafficked girls and young women. They return to England early August.

Places:

The journey so far:
Bangkok (4 nights)
Taxi to Khao Yai – 2-3 hours north east of Bangkok. UNESCO heritage site. One day trek in the jungle with fab guide – pronounced Nine – spelt no idea.Saw gibbons, hornbills, scorpions macaques. Went to the famous waterfall used in the film The Beach. Managed not to crack my toe on the rocks there. Managed to crack my toe later coming out of our bathroom at the Jungle Lodge. The lodge – more rooms with character and some Thai karaoke thrown in late into the night. Woke up to see three elephants wandering past our door.

Public bus back to Bangkok. A few hours to kill before the sleeper train to Chaing Mai. Saw the movie Wanted in a cinema in one of Bangkok's many air conditioned huge shopping malls. The cinema arranged like a first-class airline. Big plush seats more comfortable than most of the beds we've had here. Air conditioning freezing – but thoughtfully they'd provided quilts to keep us warm. Drinks served throughout the movie. The movie – rubbish.

Overnight to Chiang Mai. disappointing place. A few temples, and a modern part much like a very reduced Bangkok – heaps of markets, street food and bars, and sex tourism. We stayed in more rooms with character at the Royal Garden Lodge. Reasonable price but more than the nice cool, clean hotel with free wi-fi round the corner. Young backpackers aplenty here.

Next day: mini bus through the mountains to Pai. Wonderful four days relaxing there. Gorgeous rooms at the Pairadise Guest House and Bakery run by a German woman Kathrin and her Thai husband Pin, who designed the place himself and created a pond and spring water swimming pool out of the old rice fields. Unbelievable price – about £10 a day for two.

Night bus to Chiang Khong at the Thai-Laos border. Speed boat up the Mekong to Luang Prabang the ancient capital of Laos. Still here and will be till 21st July. Plan an elephant trek, maybe some kayaking and a visit to Buddhist cave. Fab place, fantastic food – Lao and French. We both had Lao massages. Slightly strange experience – but invigorating. Staying in Sayo river Guest House. Good rooms, balcony overlooking the Mekong. $40 a night.

Next stop – probably – Plain of Jars, then Vang Vieng, down to Vientiane and maybe sometime in the south of laos visiting limestone underground caves – 7 k of them.

Bright idea: how about a travel guide for the 40-50 somethings? Lonely Planet often out of date and caters for a mainly young backpackers. Saga too old. We want adventure and comfort with a little bit of sociability and rooms with character thrown in from time to time.

Corn plaster report: my rashes have mostly gone, face clear. Cracked toe almost better. Jenks' hearing a bit dodgy from day to day. Did something like a sprain to her arm sitting in the jacuzzi in Bangkok Marriott. Corn plasters – still carrying loads but amazingly have not needed to use them yet!

Top picture: our place in Pai
Bottom picture: the four of us (Lynda and Gill right) Buffalo Bar, Pai

Apocalypse Lao

2008-07-17T21:50:00.000-07:00

am Luang Prabang, from our balcony. We arrived Monday up the Mekong by speed boat. It was six hours in the boat and for much of that time we seemed to have the Mekong to ourselves. Just mile after mile of mighty red river with an endless landscape of steep densely wooded hills on either side. For long stretches there was scarcely any signs of human life, just the occasional fishing canoe or tiny thatched hut hamlets.

It probably sounds romantic. We have called the trip Apocalypse Lao. We had been repeatedly scammed, fleeced for more dollars at every turn since we arrived at the Lao border after a 9 hour mini bus ride from Pai. The bus journey was standard; packed, a driver who went slow on the straights and like a maniac through the mountain hairpins; a drunken Irishwoman who never stopped talking until the valium kicked in and her friend who stopped the bus a couple of times to throw up. I managed some sleep only to wake to hear Gill whispering that the driver was 'drifting off' at the wheel. We arrived at Cheung kong at about 6 am, at the Thai border We'd booked our ticket all the way through from Pai to Luang Prabang. But of course, not so simple. our so-called guide dumped us down by the river – had to pay to take the ferry to Heuy Sai and Lao immigration – and just hope that once there the guide's 'sister' would take us to the speed boat pier.

The Lonely Planet guide warns that the Lao government has tried to stop speed boat trips for tourists. No wonder. The Mekong must be well over a 100 metres wide in places, currents are fast and sometimes flow in opposite directions, and it's dotted with eddies and whirlpools and rock formations that sometimes extend half the width of the river. Even before you get on the boat you have to negotiate what it is laughingly called the ferry pier – extraordinarily steep steps, at times with no hand rail, and then a wooden gang plank over the water to the jetty where aout half a dozen Lao locals and a lonely Japanese tourist had already been waiting for two hours. The speed boats will only travel with at least six passangers we were now told, and we were just four. We stared in disbelief. The boat was a motorised canoe,with a colossal Toyota 1.6 litre outboard engine. There is no way in god's earth you can pack six in there with all our luggage. For $45 dollars more Lynda manages to negotiate a boat for just the four of us.

We crammed in. The mangey life jackets brought no more protection than the crash helmets which threatened to strangle us if they didn't fly off our heads first. The boat set off at the speed of a Thorpe Park thrill ride. J and I were in the front part of the boat, and for the first hour cramp threatened every muscle below the waist, as despite Lynda's efforts a Lao man appeared out of nowhere to jump on board and hitch a ride. There we were squeezing limbs wherever we could find space, sitting virtually on the waterline, numbness spreading from bum to toe, calculating the chances of swimming to safety should the inevitable happen or if it shouldn't, how we could survive at least six more hours of this.

A few minutes later we arrive at a floating bar, where unbelievably Jenks decides to stand up in the boat and have a fag. Off we race again and then another stop seemingly in the middle of nowhere. The hitcher jumps out muttering something about monkeys and miming camera actions. And then a group of children appear from thin air – we give them a few baht for some tatty cloth bracelets – and they hang around the boat, a little boy tugging at our anchor and threatening to cast us adrift. The driver had disappeared, we had no idea how long we would be left there, we had no way out and nowhere to go. Jenks and I started humming the Deliverance banjo twang.

At long last the driver returned, minus hitching passenger – and we set off again Nearly two hours of breakneck speed, bouncing hard on the wash, skating between rocks and floating branches, before a lunch at a wooden way station on stilts in the river. There is no way Lynda, Jenks or I will eat anything. Amazingly Gill orders a bowl of noodle soup – and it looks delicious, accompanied by a plate piled high with fresh herbs.

A little later, and after the inevitable loo from hell experience we are back in a boat. Changed boat, and changed drivers – and a new passenger. This time a young Lao student who tells us he has a US embassy scholarship to study humanities in the university of Wyoming. We believe him because why would you make that up?

This time the boat speeds on without stopping all the way – almost – to Luang Prabang. We are starting to enjoy the ride. In fact we are now loving it. We have got used to the speed, the concrete hard bangs as the boat bounces, even the occasional sound of propeller scraping rock as the driver cuts it fine. There is very little margin for error on his part, but at least if we are now to die, none of us would have missed this experience.

We relax and enjoy the magical views, the sense of almost pre-history as we speed through miles and miles of forested hills most of which have never seen human habitation. Signs of life – and even modernity emerge more frequently as we near Luang Prabang. More boats, larger and better built villages, children playing on the river banks, villagers panhandling the river for what I don't know, maybe iron.

Disembarking was no easier than embarking. A bamboo jetty which sunk under our weight as we all stood on it. A clamber through mud to yet another set of dismayingly steep steps – for a couple of dollars are packs were carried for us. At the top, we were told 12 kilometres to Luang Prabang and 16 dollars for the tuktuk. Exhausted and fed up with being scammed for yet another bit extra, we got out and walked. At last we bargained a sensible price and arrived here in Luang Prabang.

Luang Prabang. The place is a jewel in the middle of nowhere. It is a world heritage site with ancient temples and pagodas and heavy French colonial influence. It is a beautiful and calm little town – and according to Australian tourism development worker I met yesterday it has become a tourist mecca in remarkably short time. Hardly any cars, just bikes in the town, plenty of cafes, a couple of excellent markets and loads and loads of little travel agencies offering elephant treks and white water rafting.

This is where Jenks and I will stay on for a few days and we part company with Lynda and Gill. They will be flying to malaysia in a few days and want to see a bit more of Laos first. We have learnt an awful lot from them about travelling, negotiating borders, finding decent fair-priced rooms, and bargaining in markets. They've left us pages of notes about Vietnam and Cambodia. Now we will take some time to plan the rest of stay in Laos – and our route to Vietnam – by plane I think – and avoiding land crossings where possible. But there is something abut the Mekong. We're already thinking of the fast boat to Cambodia.
Lots of love
Maggie & Lesley (jenks)

WHIZZ, BANG, FIZZ

2008-07-10T21:30:00.000-07:00

Pai, North West Thailand July 8th

this is the third time I've started this blog and finally Ive found some peace and space for it lying on a hammock. Strangely it is perfectly fit for purpose.

while the several re-starts are spookily reminscent of work, the reason this time is better. We have been whizz bang fizz since we arrived in Bangkok a week ago. Just eight days actually and this is the fourth location and the sixth bed we have had in that time. In Bangkok for four days, then two nights in the jungle at the Khao Yai national park, one night in Chaing Mai and now we are up in the mountains in the north of Thailand in a beautiful spot called Pai. Eight days and already it is an adventure.

Gill and Lynda are built for speed. They leave packing to the last minute, while we set aside a couple of hours, and still they beat us to the bus, train, taxi, tuktuk – whatever transport it is we are using. They stride boldy across the teeming city roads and the cars just avoid them. We stare at each other – consult the map and hope we can plan a route that does not actually involve dicing with death.

Talk of dicing with death brings me back to transport – Jenks would not sit in the front of the taxi for the 2 and half hour ride to Khao Yai. I invoked Zen for the duration. It was for the best since the cash machine had swallowed my card earlier that morning, I'd spent 20 minutes trying to get thru to the bank hotline in Leeds finally to talk to real person – Richard – who was a little slow grasping the international dimension. Back to the taxi – let's say health and safety is not big in Thailand and non-existant on the motorways. Overtake inside, outside, any which way, up as close to the vehicle in front as possible. Anyway I had Zen-like calm which I maintained even after the taxi dropped us off 35 k short of the park and outside a guest house straight out of Rocky horror. Rocky horror lodge wasn't cheap either.

If I'd managed to write this a couple of days ago I would have entitled it 'rooms with character'. Beware rooms with character, or any Lonely Planet descriptions that include the words 'authentic', 'homely' and sociable. Read distressed paintwork, peeling lino, hairy brown blankets and towels, if there are any, that have serviced a thousand sweaty backpackers..

our lodge in Chaing Mai had character as well. Jenks' choice obviously. I was double dosing on antihistemines as soon as I walked thru the door.

now I'm in the hammock at Pai. Have found a truly delightful place, little bungalows set round a fresh water swimming pond, nestling in the mountains. The rooms fabulous. Pai is a small town that used to be on the hippy trail. I wonder if John came to places like this. Some of the older travellers have stayed opened bars, restaurants and guest houses. the place is seriously relaxed; it is at last the place to hang out in bars and cafes and watch the world.

We are starting to feel less like tourists and more like travellers. When we set off from Wales each with a backpack and carry-on we wondered how on earth we could live out of these for seven months. Now we wonder how come we have so much junk in our bags. A few days here and then we take the speed boat to Laos,our first crossing of the border.

enough for now..... Jenks is also keeping a daily diary of all the places we've been and people met, and as far as I can tell details of every meal we've eaten. More follows

Much love

Magz